A Safe Haven
by whilewewereyetsinners
Summary: On the worst day of his life, actor Edward Masen meets the woman who could be the best thing that ever happens to him. AH, one-shot.


**A Safe Haven**

 _In honor of my daughter_

 _who amazes me with her persevering spirit and sweet nature,_

 _and in memory of my father._

 _Dad, I miss you._

o-o-o-o-o

"Yes. Well. I'll let you know what we decide." I couldn't breathe. How could my voice sound so normal when I couldn't breathe?

"Certainly, Mr. Masen. Take a day or two to talk it over with your family. However, if you are going to move her it should be done as soon as possible."

I didn't look at him. The compassion in his voice was bad enough; I couldn't bear to see the pity on his face. Somewhere in my head I wondered if the compassion was real. How many of these conversations did he have to have in a week, or a month? How could he stand it?

"Yes. Thank you. I'll let you know." I reached out blindly to shake his hand, then retraced my steps back to the room.

Nothing had visibly changed in the ten minutes I'd been gone, even though everything was now different. My mother still slept, her frail, wasted body belying the force of her personality. Aunt Esme wasn't back from the cafeteria yet, and my cousin Alice was still curled up in the chair she'd pulled as close as she could to the side of my mother's bed. She took one look at my face and squeezed her eyes shut, hunching over and making herself smaller in her seat.

I took one step backwards, then another.

Then I ran.

o-o-o-o-o

My bodyguard chased me, of course. As I sped past him in the parking garage I hollered for him to stay with my family. I didn't need him. I just needed to drive.

I headed north of the city, getting off the interstate and weaving my way over smaller roads when the traffic became intolerable. I ignored my phone as it buzzed with texts and calls, relaxing a little as the urban sprawl gave way to trees and smaller towns, trying not to think about why I was out here in the first place. I pulled off the road into a parking area for the Little Gunpowder Trail and stared through the trees at the light sparkling on the water, feeling the first stirrings of guilt for running off the way I had.

My phone rang again and I answered it without looking.

"Eddie!"

I pulled the phone away from my ear in surprise and looked at it for a second. "Emmett?"

"The one and only!" he proclaimed. I heard Rosalie snort in the background. He continued conversationally, "So, what's this I hear about you shaking off Paul and leaving havoc and destruction in your wake?"

"How did you… did Paul _call_ you? On your honeymoon?"

"Actually, Paul did _not_ call me, which is the secondary reason I'm going to fire him."

"What? But—"

He kept talking. "No, Paul called your manager, your publicist, and your agent. Why your agent I have no idea, unless he thought you should get a role in a remake of _Chariots of Fire_. According to her, he was loudly cursing your impossible speed."

"So Tanya called you?"

"No, no, I heard that from someone else. I also heard that while she was talking to him he suddenly began shrieking like a girl while continuing to curse like a longshoreman. Apparently he thought it was a good idea to punch a cinderblock wall and broke his hand."

"So he never even left the parking garage? I told him to go back up to the room!"

"Oh, he left the parking garage, but only to go to the ER." He added reflectively, "I'd like to find a way to retroactively fire him so you don't have to pay for his treatment, but I don't think I can."

I pinched the bridge of my nose. "How on earth do you know all this? And are Aunt Esme and Alice okay? And my mom?"

"The ladies are all fine. Your Uncle Carlisle said—"

"What?! How did he get involved in all this? He's not even in the state!"

"Eddie, Eddie, Eddie." He was shaking his head mockingly at me. It didn't matter that I couldn't see him; I still knew it. "Don't you remember our youth? Uncle Carlisle always knows _everything_ that's going on. Hell, he probably knows where you are right now. Speaking of which, where are you?"

"I'm not sure," I admitted.

"I bet Uncle Carlisle knows," he said in a sing-song voice.

I snorted. "Yeah, whatever. The last town I remember going through was called Fork."

"Fork? Yeah, right."

"No, seriously. It was called Fork."

"You're sure it was _Fork_? A singular fork?"

I could hear him tapping away at computer keys, probably pulling up a map to see where I was. "Yes, of course I'm sure," I replied caustically.

"It wasn't Spoon? Or Knife? That would be better than Fork. Or, I know! Spork!" He began laughing maniacally. In the background, Rosalie told him to stop being an idiot.

I just rolled my eyes and waited for him to stop. "You done? Now did you talk to Uncle Carlisle? Or somebody else?"

He scoffed. "Why would I want to talk to anyone else when I could talk to the fount of knowledge that is Uncle Carlisle? Besides security at the hospital. I called them before trying to get hold of you and asked them to have someone keep an eye on your ladies. So like I said, they're all fine."

"Thanks, Em," I said in relief.

"No problemo, Eduardo. We've got to keep the ladies safe and happy while I find out what made you run off in a spastic fit."

"I did not have a spastic fit!" He may have been my best friend of twenty years and a great head of security, but one day I really was going to kill him.

"Whatever, dude. We can define terms later. Uncle Carlisle talked to your lovely aunt, who told him that Alice said the doctor asked to speak to you, and when you came back you looked, and I quote, 'horrific.' Alice said she closed her eyes because she was afraid to ask what happened, and then she heard Paul yelling and you were gone. Aunt Esme also heard Paul's big mouth as she got off the elevator, but by the time she got to the room you both were long gone. Down the stairwell, I gather?"

"Yes. It seemed best, if I was going to get away from Paul."

"By all means, Ed, let getting away from Paul take priority over your anonymity," he replied sarcastically. "You're just lucky the stairwell was best for that too. Paul wasn't stupid enough to yell your name, was he?"

"I don't think so. I was more focused on getting away from him, but I'm sure I would have noticed." I hoped so, anyway.

"Good, good. I can just fire him and not kill him, then. Your aunt also talked to Tanya—who knew Tanya was so popular? I didn't. Though actually, I think Tanya called her after she couldn't get hold of you. So that's how we know about the cursing and the girly shrieks and the _Chariots of Fire_." I laughed a little and he sighed. "Finally, a laugh. Lay it on me, Eddie. What did the doctor say?"

"He…" My voice cracked and I cleared my throat. "It didn't work, Em."

He was quiet for a long moment. "So, what's next? They add anything to the bottom of that list?"

"No. They don't… there isn't anything else to try." I scrubbed my free hand over my face and tried to keep my voice steady. "I'm supposed to talk to everyone about where to take her, back to Chicago, or home with me, or…" I took a deep breath. "She could stay in the hospital, but I don't want that. Whatever we do, it has to be soon." The phone dropped into my lap as I pressed the heels of my hands against my eyes. After a moment I heard Emmett's distant voice yelling at me.

"Sorry. Had to set the phone down."

"Don't worry about it, Ed. Listen, man, we're coming home. I'll send you our travel info when I have it and you let me know where we should head when we hit the States."

"Emmett, no!"

He ignored me. "From a security standpoint, your house is better, but I can cover wherever you guys decide is best for her."

"Em, I really don't want to wreck your honeymoon."

"Bah, my boss is good for another one. Right, boss? Besides, if you think I could enjoy myself here knowing that Mama M is…" His voice faltered, and he cleared his throat. "No. We're coming home. Don't make me sic Rosie on you."

"It's only another five days, Em. You don't—"

"That's it," he interrupted almost cheerfully. "You asked for it." His voice grew fainter, "Baby, talk some sense into Ed, will you? And let me use your phone?"

Even though I knew it was coming, I still flinched as Rosalie's sharp tone filled my ear. "Edward Anthony Masen, why are you giving us such a hard time? Are we your friends or not?"

"Of course you're my friends!" I exclaimed, taken aback.

"Then why won't you let us help you?"

"I—"

She talked right over me. I'd like to say she picked that habit up from Emmett, but she'd already been that way the day we met her. "That's what friends do, you know. They help each other. And you! You're forever helping someone! You need to let people return the favor. Stop acting like you don't need anyone. It's insulting. Do you want help or not?"

"Yes! All right? Yes, I want help!"

"Thank you," she said primly. "We would be glad to help you, Edward. Now was that so hard?"

"You are completely infuriating, Rosalie Lillian Hale McCarty."

"Yes, I know. So are you, when you middle-name me. And when you get all pig-headed and don't let people help you. And when you—"

"Yeah, yeah, yeah." I cut her off before she could continue reciting what was undoubtedly a long list of my sins. "I just don't want to wreck your honeymoon—I would think you'd appreciate that, being the bride and all."

Her voice softened. "I do appreciate it. Truly. Honestly though, Edward, we were talking yesterday and realized that neither of us really wanted to be so far away, under the circumstances. We were each trying to cover it up for the other, but we've both been kind of antsy. We should have talked about it before; we could have gone somewhere closer or put it off until… just put it off, for a while. Anyway, that doesn't matter now. How are you holding up?"

"I'm... uh, I've been better. I can't… I don't know how…" I took a shaky breath and tried to get a grip, but still ended up asking desperately, "How do I do this, Rose?"

"We're all going to be there to help you bear it, Edward. I promise." Her voice was kinder than I'd ever heard it. For some reason, it made me feel worse. "Emmett wants to talk to you again, okay? You hang in there, and we'll see you tomorrow."

There was muffled talking, then Emmett came back on the line. "Okay, Ed. Seth is on his way to you; his flight leaves LA in about an hour. He'll check in with you when he gets to the hotel. He's going to take Paul's room; I've already informed that fool that he's fired, gotten him a room by the airport, and a seat on a red-eye back to California tomorrow morning. I've told him not to contact you, so you let me know if he does. I've arranged for a car to pick up Alice and your Aunt Esme, so don't worry about them; you just head back to the hotel now."

"Yeah, I will. Thanks, Em." I turned the car on and frowned. "Actually, I'm going to need to get gas."

"All right, get gas and then get back to the hotel. I don't like you being out there with no security. You're too recognizable now, especially among the screaming meemy set."

"I've got a hat. I'll be fine."

o-o-o-o-o

Of course I didn't have a hat.

I hid in the car while the gas pumped, cursing myself for forgetting my hat and sunglasses back in the hospital room. I never forgot them. I've always been careful to have them with me, even before I became so well-known, but now that I was so recognizable it was an unbelievably stupid thing to have done.

I hoped no one told Emmett. He would never let me hear the end of it.

I had extras stashed in my car at home, but that didn't help me since I wasn't in my car at home, was I? No, I was all the way on the other side of the country in a stupid rental car without any extra hats and sunglasses because this is where the stupid doctor that Uncle Carlisle recommended is, the stupid damn doctor who can't manage to just _do his job_ and cure my mother.

 _Damn_ him. Damn everything. Damn this day to hell.

Black spots slid before my eyes and I realized I was hyperventilating. I leaned my forehead on the steering wheel and forced myself to breathe slowly.

I was too tired to be this angry.

I needed more energy.

I needed coffee.

I raised my head and looked calculatingly at the attached convenience store. When I started pumping my gas I had heard two guys talking about how much they liked the coffee here. There was a fairly steady stream of business, but it wasn't very busy and, most importantly, I hadn't seen any teenage girls. I didn't want to wait to get back to the hotel and I certainly did not want to get coffee from the drive-through at a fast food restaurant. The gas pump clicked off and as I got out to deal with it an older man walked to the pump on the other side of mine, lidded cup in hand. He nodded at me politely with absolutely no recognition on his face. The enticing scent of his coffee drifted towards me.

That decided it. I drove around the side of the store and parked. I would keep my head down, make no eye contact, get my coffee, and get out.

o-o-o-o-o

I was beginning to wish there were Wawa stores in California. Nine different types of coffee to choose from, half and half, milk, and flavored creamers on ice… no wonder so many people walked out of this store with coffee cups in hand.

And no one seemed to be paying me the least bit of attention. So far, so good.

A woman spoke from the other side of the coffee prep island. "Excuse me, are there any sleeves over there for the cups?" Her voice was low and pleasant, but I held out a sleeve without looking up. Head down. No eye contact. Get the coffee and get out.

Her fingers ever so slightly bumped mine as she took it and there was a jolt of… heat. A slow electric buzz. My eyes flew involuntarily to her face.

She was lovely, fair with dark hair and eyes, her mouth open a tiny bit in surprise. But she didn't seem to realize who I was, so the surprise wasn't at that. Had she felt it, too? The… whatever it was? I took a closer look at her. She looked weary; sad and exhausted and helpless and angry and broken…

She was like me. Everything that I was feeling I could see on her face, and in her eyes. But there was more than that. Something about her called to me, promising safety, and peace. It was preposterous. Clearly, the stress of my mother's illness was becoming too much for me.

I saw recognition dawn on her face and snapped my eyes back down to my coffee. This was madness. I had to remember who I was, what I was, and that I had no security here. I wasn't safe, and she couldn't make me so—though she did have the power to make this situation unpleasant or even dangerous for me. I carefully pressed the lid on with fingers that still tingled and hoped she wasn't going to make a scene. Please be quiet, please be quiet, please be…

"Thanks," she said, her voice gentle. I looked up at her, frowning, and she smiled slightly. "For the sleeve."

I watched in surprise as she headed to the registers. Maybe she hadn't recognized me after all? I could have sworn…

My thoughts broke off in horror as a swarm of teenage girls in some sort of athletic uniforms poured through the door beyond her. One of the girls locked her eyes on me and her mouth fell open. She blindly reached out and grabbed the arm of the girl next to her.

I couldn't breathe.

I just could not deal with anything else today.

I couldn't breathe.

More heads were turning towards me. I wanted to run, but my body wasn't listening to me.

I couldn't breathe. I couldn't move.

I was going to die here in this Wawa.

I couldn't breathe.

I couldn't breathe.

I couldn't…

"Steve!" a voice exclaimed loudly. "Hurry up, baby, we've gotta go. Little Joey's waiting on us!" I flinched as a hand grabbed mine, opening eyes that I hadn't even realized I'd closed. Thank God, it was the dark haired girl. She hissed at me, "Grab your coffee and keep your head down."

She kept chattering about Little Joey and Aunt Bertha and someone named Fred as she pulled me out the door on the other side of the store. As soon as it closed behind us she asked urgently, "Where's your car?"

I gestured towards the side of the building and fumbled in my pocket for the keys. When I unlocked the doors she let go of my hand and started to back away. Where was she going?

I opened the passenger door and headed around to my side. "Get in."

"What? Why?"

"Because I want to talk to you." I glanced at her over the top of the car. She was staring at me like I was insane. "Get in. Please."

I darted a nervous look past her as I dropped into the seat. She shifted uncertainly from one foot to the other, then slowly got into the car. The instant her door closed I sped out of the lot.

She put on her seat belt and sat in silence, fidgeting with the hem of her oversized flannel shirt. Without thinking about it I headed back to the Little Gunpowder Trail, parking in the same spot I'd been in before.

The silence in the car was oppressive. The woman shifted in her seat and darted anxious glances at me, while I was too busy wondering at my atypical behavior— Really, Masen? Insisting a stranger get in your car with you? Has the stress driven you completely insane?—to think of something to say. Finally, she blurted out nervously, "So, I guess you're not really holed up somewhere with Jane Volturi, huh?"

I froze in horror.

Her face flamed red and words spilled rapidly from her mouth. "Holy crow, I'm so sorry. I can't believe I said that—I saw it in a magazine—not _in_ a magazine, on the cover—I didn't even read the article—I just—I was at the grocery store and the line was so long and there were three different magazines with the story on the cover and—" She buried her face in her hands and mumbled, "I'm so sorry. You probably think… It's just, I do know who you are but I swear I'm not a stalker or a psycho or anything."

I couldn't hold back a chuckle, both relieved that my initial impression of her had been correct and amused by her word vomit. "No, I'm not holed up with Jane Volturi." And thank goodness for that! "My publicist and I agreed to allowing her publicist to put that story out since I was going to be out of town and Jane… she was going to be out of town, too." In truth, Jane was in an inpatient treatment center to deal with her anger management issues, and with her caustic personality was the last woman I would ever run off with on a romantic adventure.

She accepted my scant explanation with a nod and returned to uncomfortably staring at her hands, her face still a lovely shade of pink.

"So I should introduce myself. It's only polite," I elaborated, in response to her incredulous look. I stuck my hand out. "I'm Edward Masen. And you are?"

"Bella Swan." She shook my hand, then flexed her fingers discreetly. She definitely was feeling the same electric tingling that I was.

"Nice to meet you, Bella. Thanks for getting me out of there."

She shrugged. "It was no problem."

I frowned. "It would have been a problem if you hadn't helped me. So thank you."

"I didn't do that much. I'm just glad you responded; it looked like you—" She cut herself off abruptly.

"It looked like I what?"

She shifted uncomfortably. "It looked like you were having a panic attack. I was afraid you wouldn't realize what I was doing, or wouldn't react well. But I had to try something. I couldn't just leave you there."

"I might have been," I admitted. I'd never had a panic attack before, but if ever there was a day that called for one… "It's been a very, very bad day."

She looked at me then, her eyes warm with compassion. "I'm sorry."

"It's improved a little," I told her honestly. Perhaps too honestly, since she blushed again and looked away. I decided I should change the subject, and gestured to the dirt on the knees of her jeans. "Were you gardening? It's a nice day for it."

"No. Well, sort of." She took a breath which was clearly meant to be steadying. "I was planting bulbs at the cemetery."

Judging by her demeanor, she didn't mean in a flower bed. "Family?"

She nodded and looked away, but not before I caught a glimpse of tears welling in her eyes. "My father. He had pancreatic cancer. By the time he finally went to the doctor it was too late to treat."

I looked with fresh eyes at how the shirt she was wearing swamped her small form. The tee-shirt beneath it wasn't oversized, nor were her jeans, which made me wonder, "That's his shirt?"

Her cheeks flushed. "Yes." We watched her fingers repeatedly pleat and release the hem of it. "At first… at first, it smelled like him, but now…" She shrugged, looking self-conscious. "Now I just like to wear it."

"Ah." I looked into the distance, trying to see the light sparkling on the water, but the sun was behind the clouds now and I couldn't see the water at all. "I won't be able to do that with my mother's shirts. Or maybe I should. I could give you really interesting magazine covers to read at the grocery store, much better than a secret rendezvous with Jane."

I glanced over, smiling faintly at the thought of how the media would implode at the sight of me in a too-small woman's blouse, and met her startled eyes. "That's why I'm in Baltimore. My mother… she's at Johns Hopkins. At Kimmel."

Bella flinched. "My dad was there, briefly," she said expressionlessly. "People come here from all over. Kimmel's a good cancer treatment center."

"Yes," I said.

 _Not good enough,_ I thought.

We were both proof of that.

I watched my hands flexing on the steering wheel. Clench and relax, clench and relax, clench and relax. "My Uncle Carlisle— he's a surgeon at Northwestern Memorial in Chicago— he recommended a doctor here. Supposed to be brilliant." I scoffed despite my best efforts not to. "I shouldn't have expected him to be able to help— Mom's been fighting this off and on for sixteen years. Started out as breast cancer and now it's everywhere."

"Sixteen years," she said, aghast. "You must have been so young—both of you must have been young."

"Yeah. She was thirty-four. I was nine."

Bella shivered. She toed off her shoes and pulled her feet up, huddling in her seat. It reminded me of how Alice had curled up in the chair by my mother's bed, as though to make herself a smaller target. If only we could hide from life's horrors so easily.

"Well, that gives me a little perspective," she commented ruefully. "I should be grateful my parents were healthy when I was a kid."

"It wasn't like that," I objected. "I mean, yeah, I was scared when she first got sick, but I was shielded from the worst of it. My aunt, uncle, and cousin lived one block over and my best friend and his huge crazy family were next door— my family and Emmett's just swelled out around me, and in a lot of ways it was a good year. Which sounds awful to say, but like I said, I really was protected from most of what was going on. The cancer didn't recur until I was almost sixteen. There was no way to hide it from me then, but I was older and better able to handle it."

"That's good. Only nine…" She shook her head and rested her cheek on her knees, gazing over at me. "You know, you're very fortunate in having family and friends like that."

I gave her an inquiring look, since I didn't think she meant it quite as simply as it sounded.

"I mean, you'll have people, afterwards. With Dad and me, it was just us, and nobody misses him." She held up a forestalling hand. "I know that's not completely true, but... it seems that way. It's only been three months, but everyone so easily filled in the space he left behind in their lives. A new police chief, new fishing buddies, new... everything. When people see me, they don't even mention him anymore. He wasn't irreplaceable to anyone except me."

People talk sometimes about the loneliness of fame. Of how fame and fortune both expand your world and shrink it. My own life is proof of this— since becoming "famous" I've had incredible opportunities come my way, yet I (clearly!) can't safely walk into a convenience store to buy a cup of coffee. When fame was new to me I discovered the hard way that I can't trust anyone outside my own small circle of friends and family. The narrowness of my new existence chafes me. I complain about it more than I should— as I'm sure Emmett would gladly attest! Yet as I looked at Bella, small in the seat beside me, her arms wrapped around her legs, I realized that I was an idiot. She was alone in a way that I truly wasn't, in a way that I had never experienced. Even after my mother… even after she…

I cut off the thought and moved on to the point, which was that I would never be that alone.

I struggled to think of what to say. How could I help her? The intensity of it startled me, but more than anything in the world I wanted this woman to know she wasn't alone. "Can you tell me about him? What was he like?"

Gratitude flashed across her face, and the words spilled from her, slowly at first, but then more and more rapidly, painting a vivid picture. A man who loved fishing and watching sports, but who unselfishly cared for his family and community. A man who let his daughter be taken away from him, but who eagerly welcomed her back when she wanted to live with him. A man of few words whose silence could be misconstrued as disinterest, but who made sure that she had everything she needed, and—which made me laugh— whose guns were never so clean as when boys started showing interest in his little girl.

I leaned back against the door and watched her tension melt away as she laughed and cried and taught me all there was to know about Charlie Swan. I wished that I could meet him.

"What about you?" she asked shyly, when her words had run out. "What is your mother like?"

I wanted to tell her. But when I tried, when I opened my mouth to describe my mother's vivacity, her mental and moral strength, her passionate response to injustice and stupidity, grief froze the words in my throat and choked me.

"Hey, it's okay." I felt the fleeting warmth of her touch on my hand. "You don't have to talk about it."

I reached out blindly and found her hand, lacing my fingers through hers. And then I could breathe again. "I miss her already," I whispered.

"I know," she replied simply.

And it was such an inexpressible comfort to know that she did.

o-o-o-o-o

We were deep in conversation when my phone rang, startling us both. I looked at the caller id and frowned. "Sorry, I need to take this. Hey, Emmett, what's up?"

His voice boomed over the line, "Eddie! I hear you're not back to the hotel yet! Car run out of gas?"

I sighed loudly. "No, Em. I got gas and coffee. I'll be heading back soon."

"Coffee, huh? Did you go through a drive-through for that coffee?"

"Uh, no…" What did he care where I got it?

"Yeah, well, I only ask because Alice wanted me to tell you that she brought your hat and sunglasses back with her from the hospital. Didn't want you to worry about them." I didn't say anything and his voice edged toward acerbic. "So, you're just living on the edge today, huh? Shaking off security, taking your crazy hair out in public. What the hell are you thinking, Ed?"

"I just wanted coffee, all right?" I snapped. "And nothing…" Well, that wasn't true, so I changed course. "Everything's fine. I'm fine."

"What happened?"

"What are you talking about? I just said—"

"Eddie, how long have I known you? If nothing happened you would have said so. Just tell me how bad it is."

"Not bad. There was this high school lacrosse team. Uh, a girls' team. But—"

"Shit, really? Are you hurt? Where were you?" I could hear computer keys clicking.

"Emmett, really, I'm fine. I admit, it could have been bad, but—"

"Who's that with you?" he interrupted.

"What?" I took a wild look around the interior of the car. Did he have spy stuff in my rental?

"There's pictures on the internet, and some girl is holding your hand. Looks like she's talking your ear off. Rosie, call Kate, will you? She needs to get on top of this. Who is she, Ed?"

I felt like my blood turned to ice. No, no, no. "Damn it. Her name's Bella. She's the one who got me out of there. Em, can you see her face in the pictures?" I dragged my hand through my hair and looked over at Bella. Her eyes were huge. "I'm so sorry," I told her.

Emmett snorted. "Don't apologize to me; Kate's the one who's going to kill you for not calling her. Don't see any full-face ones, but there's a bunch from the side. There's probably more I haven't seen yet though… Damn it all. Baby, tell Kate they've hit TMZ. Ed, I'm putting you on speaker; let's see if Kate can hear you too. What exactly happened?"

I went through the whole tale, from realizing I'd forgotten my hat through my immobilizing panic when all the girls walked in. "Then Bella realized I needed help and dragged me out. I didn't see any pictures being taken. That's all."

"Did she call you Steve?" Emmett immediately asked. "Because there's a breathless account on Perez Hilton." He proceeded to read it in a high-pitched, girlish voice, "'She called him Steve and was talking about people who were waiting for them, but I _know_ he was really Edward Masen. There is _no way_ a man _that_ hot has an Aunt Bertha!'"

I asked hopefully, "So, does my Great-Great-Aunt Ethel make me less hot? Because if so I'm going to take her to the next awards show I have to attend."

Bella giggle-snorted, then clapped her hand over her mouth, blushing. I smiled over at her, glad she wasn't upset. And really, her giggle-snort was adorable. But then , to my horror, Rosalie asked slowly, every icy word perfectly enunciated, "Is that girl still _with_ you? In your _car_? Have you completely _lost your mind_?"

"Emmett, take me off speaker." I could hear Rosalie, Emmett, and even Kate all talking over each other. "Now, Emmett!"

"You're off, you're off, get a grip. You weren't apologizing to me earlier, were you?"

I laughed a little. "No. Sorry."

"Figures. Ass." He was quiet for a moment. "Listen, Ed, I get that you're having a bad day. A bad couple of months, really. I get it. But what the hell are you doing? How is this possibly a good idea?"

"She's not going to hurt me. She saved me, Em. I never would have gotten out of there if it weren't for her."

He answered in a gentle, we-are-having-an-intervention-here-folks voice, "I'm know, and I'm grateful. I really am. I know how bad it could have been. But once you got outside you should have left her there. How do you know she doesn't have an ulterior motive?"

"She doesn't," I said flatly.

"She could," he continued inexorably, still annoyingly gentle. "You have no way of knowing if she even is who she says she is. She could have helped you as a way to get close to you."

"What, you want me to check her ID?" I said sarcastically. "She's exactly who she says she is. You don't know her, Emmett."

"Neither do you, Ed. You've known her for what? An hour?"

"I know her a lot better than you do!"

"Edward…" Emmett said, still in gentle-intervention mode. I wanted to punch him.

"Edward," Bella said, "give me your phone."

"What?" Emmett and I both asked.

"Bella, you don't have to talk to him. He's being ridiculous."

"He's not being ridiculous," she said firmly. Emmett's loud "HA!" hurt my ear. "You just met me, and you guys have enough going on without having to worry about our conversation ending up on the internet. Or me doing something even worse. The man's just trying to do his job, so let him check me out." She wiggled her fingers at me for the phone.

I watched her hair gleam in the late afternoon sun as she answered Emmett's questions. Her lip trembled as she talked about her father and I unthinkingly reached over to take her hand again. It seemed like such a natural thing to do—how did I get so comfortable with her in such a short period of time? It felt like I had known her forever.

Suddenly a crimson blush spread over her face, and she gasped, "What? I don't think that's any of your business… No… _Sure_ I'll tell you if it does… No, I'm not serious, Emmett; are you crazy?" She rolled her eyes in exasperation, still red-faced. "You know what, I'm going to give you back to Edward now. Bye, Emmett." She thrust the phone towards me, refusing to meet my eyes.

I took it automatically. I could hear Emmett laughing even though it was nowhere near my ear. "What did he say to you?"

"Nothing, he just…" She took a deep breath and shook her head, looking torn between mortification and amusement. "He's outrageous, that's all. I don't know how you put up with him."

"Hey, he loves me!" Emmett bellowed.

"Well, maybe he's crazy too then!" Bella called back to him.

I put the phone to my ear. Emmett was still chuckling. "What did you say to her?" I demanded.

"I like her, Eddie. If you had to make stupid choices and get dragged out of a Wawa by a random stranger, you picked a good one to get dragged by."

"Okay, but that doesn't answer my—"

"Which reminds me—what kind of name is Wawa? Damn, Maryland is full of crazy names. I wonder if there's a crazy name tour. Think you could find out for me?"

"Emmett," I hissed between clenched teeth. "What did you say to her?"

"Hmm? Oh, nothing much. Listen, lover boy, as much as I hate to break things up you really need to get back to the hotel and get some decisions made."

"Fine," I sighed, knowing I wasn't going to get anything out of him that he didn't want to tell. "I'll just ask Bella."

Her cheeks flamed red again. "No, you won't," she blurted out loudly.

Between guffaws, Emmett ordered me, "Hotel, Edward. And you and your little friend have my permission to exchange phone numbers." He hung up before I could tell him exactly what he could do with his permission.

I scowled at the phone and tossed it onto the dash, then turned to Bella. "Why won't you tell me what he said to you?"

"If I tell you why, I may as well just tell you what he said."

"Well, what did he say, then?"

"Never," she declared, her eyes dancing. Amusement had apparently won out over mortification. "I will never tell you."

"Never is a very long time, Bella."

She made a face of mock astonishment. "You're right!"

I rolled my eyes. "Fine. Don't tell me. I'll find out one day." I squeezed her hand, wishing I didn't have to say the next thing. "I have to get to the hotel. My family and I have a lot to discuss, decisions to make…" My voice trailed off as reality filled the car with a heavy weight. "I have to take you back now."

"Okay," she agreed quietly.

I took comfort in the fact that she didn't let go of my hand.

o-o-o-o-o

"Are you serious?" I exclaimed, trying not to laugh. She couldn't be serious.

She rolled her eyes. "Yes, I'm serious. Don't be mean to my truck."

I eyed her skeptically, still unsure if she was telling the truth, but pulled into the space next to the ancient, faded hulk she said was hers.

"Car snob," she accused me teasingly.

"Guilty," I admitted. "You should see my car at home."

"Oh, should I?"

"Yes. 2014 Aston Martin Vanquish. Silver. Zero to sixty in 3.6 seconds. Eight speed transmission. Can go 201 miles per hour." I sighed longingly, then realized Bella was giggling. "What?"

"Should I leave you alone with your memories? Maybe put on some soft music before I go?"

"Shut up," I retorted, grinning. "Don't be mean to my car, Miss Don't-Be-Mean-To-My-Truck."

"I wasn't being mean to your car," she pointed out impishly. "I was being mean to you."

I laughed. "Oh, that makes it all better then." Impulsively, I reached over and ran a finger down the curve of her smiling cheek. Her breath caught in her throat. "Bella, my life is insane. I work crazy hours, my private life is shrouded with lies and secrecy, I can't go anywhere without security. Add to that what's going on with my mom…" I took a deep breath. "I know I should just say goodbye to you. Being exposed to the general lunacy of my life, and what's… what's coming, cannot be the best thing for you. But, Bella… I don't want to say goodbye. We can just talk on the phone, we'll do whatever you want, but please say we don't have to say goodbye."

Her eyes were huge, but I couldn't decipher the emotion in them. Wonder? Doubt? I felt a stab of fear that was washed away when she said faintly, "I don't want to say goodbye either."

"You're sure?"

She pressed her lips together, then nodded sharply. "Yes."

Relieved, I reached to pull her into a hug, pausing at the last moment to ensure it was okay. Then she was in my arms, hers sliding tentatively around my back, and the most inexplicable feelings overwhelmed me.

I was home.

I was safe.

I didn't ever want to let her go.

My arms involuntarily tightened around her and I buried my nose in her hair. "Bella, thank you. For saving me."

She didn't try to argue with me this time. "Edward," she whispered against my neck, making me fight to suppress a shudder, "you're welcome."

o-o-o-o-o

* * *

 **A/N: First of all, whoever nominated me for the Twific Fandom Awards- thank you so much! I'm very flattered and excited. :D This one-shot was my submission for the Fandom4Autism fundraiser- my daughter is on the spectrum, which made donating especially meaningful to me. The banner was made by the talented Mina Rivera, who dealt with my whining about Bella's face with admirable patience. :) When I was deciding where to set this I was looking on googlemaps at various places near both Wawas and good cancer treatment centers, and discovered that there really is a town called Fork near Baltimore. So that made the decision very easy. LOL Poor Emmett is wrong though- Wawa stores actually get their name from a town in Pennsylvania, so Maryland doesn't have a monopoly on crazy names. ;) For fun, pics of Edward's cars are on my tumblr, so if you like to drool over fast cars take a look. And if you have a moment, please review!**


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